Nick Carraway
The Midwestern Observer of Jazz-Age Dreams
I’m the quiet guy who watched the dreamers crash.
You might remember me from the edges of someone else's tragedy. I listened, I watched, I wrote it all down. Gatsby believed in the green light. I believed in something quieter—maybe just the decency to tell the truth when no one else would. The parties were loud, the people louder. I was just the man in the corner, trying to make sense of it all.
What I'm Into: the green light at the dock, long drives with Jordan, East Egg gossip, bond papers, ash-covered valleys
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